


What wouldn't you do?

by ParkerKelly



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4142736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParkerKelly/pseuds/ParkerKelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was a dream I had of an autograph session and more with Misha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What wouldn't you do?

Standing in line for his autograph, the nerves are as high as ever. But why, I've met this man before, I have nothing to worry about! This? This is the easy part. As the line moves closer and closer I can't help but see the red button down shirt is loosely hanging off his broad shoulders, and how his eyes are shining bluer than normal. "How is that possible?" I think to myself, he's not wearing blue, but fuck... so fucking blue! I had brought Vicki's threesome book to get autographed as a joke and partial proposition. I never expected him to react. The line is moving slower now, good. I need to remember to breathe. Breathing is important and I don't want to pass out in front of him, or do I? He is CPR and EMT certified after all. Clutching and trying to hide the book as person after person moves ahead of me, he gets closer and the red shirt he has on is more of a burgundy color, or the color of a nice red wine. It wasn't hanging off of him after all, but was tailored to his every move instead.  
  
I slowly step up to the table and the handler wants to see what I have for him to sign. "No, you can't have it." with a determination I didn't know existed in me comes out. He looks at me with curious intent, raising an eyebrow, "May I see it?"  
"Yes, sir, YOU may." as I glared at the handler for trying to take the book out of my hands first. She doesn't know that I've been planning this line to him for months. 

Misha looks at the book, immediately familiar with it. "You know, I'm not the one who wrote this. My wife did."  
"My wife." I think, those words, no matter what, they sting. Somehow I manage a dry mouth swallow, only to finally say what I'd practiced and talked about for so long. I had taken two shots and a Xanax before in order to have enough balls to do it. After a deep and calming breath, I look him in his eyes, those beautiful blue that can't ever be forgotten eyes, "What do I have to do to get Vicki to sign this too?" slightly sultry, sensual, definitely flirtatious, and he knows my immediate intent. He doesn't know that in my bag I have a stamped envelope for him to mail it to me should he choose to take it with him. A person has to have a back-up plan after all, the other being, "I'll see you again in a few weeks, if you want to bring it to (Insert con here) and give it back." also on the tip of my tongue to say. Before I'm able to, he interrupts, thankfully, as he is now curious by the line. 

"Well now, that depends. What would you be willing to do?" He says with a Cheshire grin and his chin resting on propped hands.  
"Almost anything."  
"Almost? What wouldn't you do?"  
Then I turned bright red and blushing, "well, we could talk about this when you're done with your autographs if you like..."

Writing a note on a scratch piece of paper, he then handed it to me. It was a room number at the hotel, but not the con hotel.

Searching for the room at the foreign hotel was easy, but the looks from some of the other guests of the event were odd. It was normal for me to see them, but suddenly it was like I was the one on display, like an exhibit at a zoo. I didn't like this feeling and instead patiently waited for him outside the door number he had given me. I sat down on the floor with my back against the door that held him. His bed, his possessions, and possibly his wife, all just beyond the electronic lock. I chose to sit and wait instead of knocking, wondering if Vicki was inside, and got lost in social media feeds, photos from that day, and other posts. Time passed both too fast and not fast enough while waiting for him. I understood there was travel and he had maybe 50 more autographs and other commitments, he wasn't mine and I was lucky enough to be sitting there as it was. Suddenly I feel someone watching me, and its him. Walking down the empty hall in that button down red shirt and dark blue jeans with brown shoes. He does love those brown shoes.

Having first met him when he was wearing pink, the red was a nice ironic touch, and the sight of him walking up to me, made me just really fucking horny. He reached his hand down to help me up, leaning in close, whispering, "so, what wouldn't you do?" in a teasing tone that you could hear his simile.  
We're both there for the same reason and consenting adults after all, so I put my hands on him. One on his shoulder, tracing up to his neckline, the other on his chest, feeling the ripped muscles beneath.  


The mix of liquor and anti-anxiety medication had definitely taken hold. Feeling far more drunk than brave, I found my courage to carry out what I had only dreamed of before. 

I leaned up and whispered in his ear, "I would not kiss the nape of your neck," and then actually do so, whispering the entire time while performing such actions, "and I would not trace your jaw with my lips," feeling the stubble on my mouth, "and I would not kiss your mouth," a small kiss, "gently," this time he kissed me,"and tastefully," I kissed him again, holding it there a little longer.  
His hands are on me, one on my back and the other pulling at my hair... His lips on my neck when I leave him.

He starts fumbling for the room key, his voice, low and gravely, reminiscent of Castiel's "is there, uh, anything else you wouldn't do?" By now it's a game for both of us, a game of fun, of torture, and of lust. 

"Well... I..." And he gets the door open, pulling me inside and locking it closed behind him.  
His mouth to mine, pressing me up against the wall and him, trying to undo his shirt.  
"Mish, slow down, I've been waiting for this moment a lot longer than you have."  
Misha starts laughing at the brutal honesty of that comment, so hard it's a full body laugh with the eyes shut and nose crinkled. 

"Okay, okay, you got me. Just so you know, I remember you." As he comes closer with that crooked smile that turns me to jello.  
"How can you possibly remember me?" As he's untying the satin belt on my shirt  
"Your eyes. I could never forget those."  
Fucking hell, this beautiful wonderful man that I could really fall for actually remembers me? What the actual fuck? The thousands of people he meets per year and he remembers me? Take me now, fuck me into oblivion, I am dead.

Then I begin to play with the buttons on his shirt and he's teasing me with his tongue on my neck, my ear... "I believe we left off on, Anything else you wouldn't do?"  
Ah yes... "I wouldn't place my lips on the tip of you, just to taste it. Or inhale that sweet scent that belongs to you, or memorize every single inch of you with my fingertips."  
He took that as invitation to be a little more dominating and throw me off my game, and he succeeded.  
"I'm sorry I'm so ugly" came out as he was trying to undo my jeans.  
He looked at me with a look I've seen too many times before, when I show up to blind dates or meet friends of friends as a set up, it's that look of disappointment that crosses their faces every time, but that's not what he does. No, this man, Misha Collins, reacts differently. "No, enough of that." And he came back to face me, looked me in the eyes, his deep and enduring blue eyes staring into mine. He caresses my jaw with his touch of his hand, "you're perfect. You're you." Brushing his lips against mine, feeling each other's breath and scent. I reached up, my hand in his hair, and brought him down to kiss me, he does so, very willingly, and... 

That's when I woke up.


End file.
